Page 65 of Defying the Crown
Ella guides me toward the intensive care unit, her expression grave as we navigate the maze of hallways. Jayda, by my side, reaches for my hand, squeezing it tightly in reassurance. The quiet hum of machines and the distant beeps of monitors around us create an unsettling symphony.
When we finally reach Harald's room, I hesitate just outside the door. The sight that greets me sends a chill up my spine. Harald is lying in the hospital bed, motionless, surrounded by an array of blinking machines that monitor his every breath. Tubes thread through his nose and mouth, connecting him to life-sustaining ventilators and feeding lines. His face, usually so animated, appears pale and lost in the muted glow of the monitors. All the vibrant colours of life have drained away, replaced by a haunting starkness that twists my gut.
A wave of nausea washes over me, and I stagger back, letting go of Jayda’s hand and dropping to my knees before the trash bin and throwing up. My heart shatters as reality sets in—this is real. The gravity of the situation consumes me. I am here because of the love I hesitated to acknowledge, the tenderness I underestimated. Suddenly, I feel like a fool for not recognising how much Harald has tried to communicate with me, how he shared his fears and vulnerabilities through our texts, how he tried for weeks on end to speak to me, begging for any connection.
I get up wiping my mouth with a cloth Jayda hands me, and take a tentative step closer, my heart racing, tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. "Harald," I breathe, my voice trembling, barely a whisper as I approach the bedside. Seeing the man I love in such a fragile state is devastating.The memories of our laughter, and the powerful connection we quickly formed feel like distant echoes in my mind.
The unraveling of emotions becomes too much, and I let the tears flow freely. "I should have listened... I'm so sorry," I sob, the regret twisting painfully in my chest. This is not how our story is meant to unfold. Every moment spent in doubt now stings like a thousand needles, and I wish for the chance to go back and tell Harald I believe in him, to show that I care.
As I sink into the chair beside Harald’s bed, the cold hard reality sets in. I could lose him, the man who has shown me what it means to truly be loved. The realization hits me like a tidal wave; I love Harald with all my heart. I know why he did what he did, and I can't keep denying the truth any longer. I need Harald like I need air to breathe, I think I knew that from the first moment our eyes met in that coffee shop.
The machines continue their relentless rhythm, each beep echoing like a drum of despair—a reminder that time is slipping away. “Please, just wake up,” I plead, enclosing Harald's hand in my own as I squeeze it tightly, searching for a flicker of warmth. “I need you... I’m not ready to lose you."
Daniel
The steady rhythm of the heart monitor fills the silence as I clutch Harald's hand. Through my tears, I barely register the soft footsteps approaching from behind until a gentle hand rests on my shoulder.
"You must be Daniel," a warm voice says in accented English. "I've been hoping to meet you, though I wish it were under better circumstances."
I turn to find an elderly woman with kind eyes and silver hair pulled back in a neat bun. She's wearing a cardigan over professional clothes, and despite her obvious concern, there's a gentleness to her presence that seems to soften the harsh hospital lighting.
"I'm Ingrid," she says, pulling up a chair beside me. "I'm Harald's therapist. He's told me so much about you in our sessions."
I hastily wipe my tears with my sleeve. "He has?"
Ingrid's smile is gentle but knowing. "Oh yes. I've never seen him light up the way he does when he talks about you. The first time he mentioned meeting someone online, there was this... spark in his eyes I hadn't seen in years."
My throat tightens. "I didn't know."
"Harald has always struggled with being truly seen," Ingrid continues, her eyes drifting to Harald's still form. "As Crown Prince, people see what they want to see—the title, the wealth, the fairy tale. But you... you sawhim. Just Harald. The young man who loves penguins and makes terrible puns and feels things so deeply it sometimes overwhelms him."
Fresh tears spring to my eyes. "But he lied to me about who he was."
"Did he?" Ingrid asks softly. "Or did he finally show someone who he truly is, without the crown getting in the way?" She reaches into her bag and pulls out a leather-bound notebook. "Harald has been my patient for many years, Daniel. Would you like to know what he wrote about you in his therapy journal?"
I hesitate, torn between wanting to know and feeling like I'm invading his privacy. But Ingrid's kind eyes hold no judgment, only understanding. Slowly, I nod.
Ingrid opens the journal carefully, her fingers tracing over Harald's neat handwriting. "This entry is from the day you first met at the coffee shop," she says, adjusting her reading glasses. "'For the first time in my life, someone looked at me and saw just me. Not the Crown Prince, not the heir to the throne, not Magnus' disappointing son. When Daniel smiled at me, I felt real. Human. Worthy.'"
My heart clenches as she continues reading. "'I know I should tell him who I am. The guilt eats at me every time he shares another piece of himself. But I'm terrified. Everyone who knows who I am wants something from me. With Daniel, I can just... be. When he laughs at my jokes or sends me silly selfies or tells me about his day, it's because he wants to share those moments with me. Just me.'"
Ingrid turns a few pages. "This one is from your day at Coney Island. 'Today I had cotton candy for the first time. Daniel couldn't believe it. His whole face lit up when he insisted on buying me some, like he was giving me the most precious gift in the world. And maybe he was. Because no one has ever cared about giving me normal experiences before. No one has ever looked at me with such pure joy just because I was enjoying something simple.'"
I can't stop the sob that escapes my throat. Jayda squeezes my shoulder from where she stands behind me, but I barely register it.
"Harald has struggled with depression since he was a teenager," Ingrid says softly, closing the journal. "The pressure of being Crown Prince, his father's expectations, hiding his sexuality... it's been crushing him for years. But then he met you." She reaches out and places her hand over mine where it still grips Harald's. "In all my years as his therapist, I've never seen him fight so hard to be happy as he did these past few weeks with you."
"But look where that got him," I whisper, glancing at the tubes and monitors surrounding us.
"This," Ingrid gestures to Harald's unconscious form, "isn't because of you, Daniel. This is because for his entire life, Harald has been told that who he is isn't enough. That he needs to hide parts of himself to be worthy of love and respect." She leans forward, her eyes intense. "You were the first person to show him that wasn't true. The first person who loved him for exactly who he is."
"I do," I admit, my voice barely audible. "I love him. Even after everything... I love him."
"Then tell himthat when he wakes up," Ingrid says, standing slowly. She places the journal on the bedside table. "I think you should read the rest of this. Harald would want you to understand." She pauses at the door. "You know, in all his entries about you, he never once mentioned being afraid you'd reject him for being a prince. He was only ever afraid you'd stop seeing him as Harald."
As Ingrid's footsteps fade down the hallway, I pick up the journal with trembling hands. The weight of Harald's truth, his fears, his love, all bound in leather and waiting to be discovered.
Erik
